


The New Face of Failure

by parallelanprincess



Series: Sugar, We're Goin' Down [8]
Category: Animal Man, DC Animated Universe, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Justice League International (Comics), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Backstory, Birthday Party, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Female Character of Color, Femslash, Femslash February, Fluff, Lesbian Character of Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:45:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parallelanprincess/pseuds/parallelanprincess
Summary: Beatriz and Tora aren't living up to their full potential. At least they're having fun.





	1. Chapter 1

Beatriz da Costa does not take no for an answer. She is a strong, intelligent woman who refuses to be denied. She has endured discrimination of all kinds for choosing to be the fabulous person she was born to be. Bea was queer and proud, loving every moment of embracing her identity. There was nothing that was stopping her.

Except for Jezebel Jet Modeling Agency.

The world famous talent agency for up and coming fashion models had rejected her application. The official word was that Bea didn't have the appropriate amount of experience to apply for representation. Her career was in the early stages and it was still unknown whether she'd be a profitable investment. A few commercials for small businesses, an ad in the Sears catalog, and a few years working as a party princess for hire didn't inspire much confidence. The agent had flashed that fake smile she knew all too well when he described in vivid detail how she didn't have the right 'look'. Too tall, too dark, and too old. Bea had grabbed her purse and left with her head held high.

If her green heels stomped the entire way to the parking lot, she didn't notice. No matter where she went it was always the same answer. Bea was perfect if they needed someone to fill a spot in the background. The ideal second to last choice if you wanted to fill out a crowd shot. A paid audience member who could get people to laugh at the appropriate time. An extra that could walk past the camera without standing out too much.

Bea fished around her purse in search of her car keys. She really needed to clean it out, there tubes of lipstick seemed to be breeding. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a head of long black hair. Cursing she dug more desperately into her handbag. She heard the keys jiggling but had yet to touch her giraffe key chain.

“Bea, is that you? Darling, its been an absolute age. How are you?”

Damn, this day really could get worse. Bea turned to face her former friend and current face of Janus Cosmetics, Page Monroe. Years ago they'd shared a tiny one bedroom apartment as the struggled through modeling school. Two girls in their late teens who dreamed of making it big one day. A friendship marked by bottles of cheap wine, Chinese takeout, and more eye shadow then a Bratz doll. Then one day Page got her big break and Bea...didn't.

“Page, what a surprise. I thought you were still in France,” Bea said. She finally located her keys. Victory! Now to make a quick escape before things descended into awkwardness and resentment.

“Must have forgot to update my Insta. The show wrapped up weeks ago. You should have been there, sweetheart. Me and Silver found this nightclub that was too die for. I only dropped by to see how Jezzy was doing,” Page said.

Her thin lips were pressed into a sneer. When Page catapulted to stardom she made it a point to leave Bea behind. Why spend time with your washout of a roommate when their were agents to meet, parties to crash, and coke to snort. Page occupied that fabled stratosphere of the young, rich, and beautiful. Bea was a living reminder of the days when the only modeling she did was in the bathroom mirror of the Starbucks they worked out. It was as if kicking Bea when she was down was the key to staying successful  
“That's very nice of you. I'd love to stay and chat but I have a gig to get to,” Bea said.

It wasn't technically a lie. She was expecting the call from one of her client. The Bakers were still debating whether they wanted a forest nymph or a princess for their daughter's birthday party. Mr. Baker worked at the local zoo and adored animals. However, his daughter Maxine was deep into her “everything pink” phase. He and his wife weren't too keen on another year of pastels and glitter. Thus they were going for the best of both worlds. Their idea of a jungle princess themed event was definitely going to pay her half of rent for the next two months. Bea would probably need to hit up the fabric store later. There was a sale on premade wings and making a convincing crown wouldn't take more than twenty bucks.

“You're really doing the Lord's work, Bea. Not all of us can cater to the preschool crowd. I hear that kindergartners can be rather critical,” Page said.

“Speaking of seeing is believing, it looks like it's time for a new botox injection. You're looking a bit saggy around the eyes.” With that Bea slipped into her car, slamming her door in Page's face.

What a complete and utter bitch. It was hard to believe they'd been something approaching friends at one point. She turned on the radio in the hopes that sounds of The Birds of Prey would put her in a better mood. Metal wasn't exactly her favorite genre but Dinah Lance screaming at the top of her lungs was exactly what Bea needed.

Well that and a nice drink.

She'd go home, crank open a bottle of wine, and cuddle with Tora. Maybe call Michael so they could both bitch about how their chosen careers were turning out to be a total wash. Michael should have known better to bet on his own games. The league was keeping it away from the media if only because he was a damn fine linebacker. The man showed up drunk to the Super Bowl and walked away with his first title. Give Michael Carter an inch and he'll take a mile. It was starting to come painfully obvious his glory days were fading fast. He'd barely cracked thirty but he was easily the oldest person on the team. The league insisted on recruiting droves of younger players and pushing veterans out. Younger, fresher, prettier. Was it any wonder they got along? Since Micheal was benched for the rest of the season, he was always good to call up for a mutual crying session or an afternoon of binging soap operas.

* * *

Bea arrived home to the sound of Norwegian profanity. Tora was home early. She found her partner bent over a sewing machine. Tora was tailoring a child's skating costume judging by the size and amount of bright pink fabric laid out on the table next to her. A former figure skater herself, Tora specialized in creating made to order skating costumes for preteens and young adults. Soccer moms had migrated to the ice with hopes of turning their daughters into Olympic hopefuls. A key part of participating in the world of glitz, glamour, and double axles was purchasing the best outfit to literally outshine the competition.

Tora possessed fond memories of her days as Norway's beloved Princess of Ice. Her adolescence was marked by international competitions and gold medals. She dominated the junior circuit, taking gold at the World Junior Figure Skating Championships each year she competed. She became a podium mainstay at most ISU events alternating between taking silver and bronze. Rumors of representing her country at the Winter Olympics made her one of the most promising athletes in the discipline. Her future was bright, her place in figure skating history was assured.

Then a broken ankle shattered her Olympic dreams. While she made a quick recovery, her father and coach decided to elope with her winnings. Lacking funds, coaching, and parental support Tora soon found herself renting a room from her former choreographer performing in low budget ice shows to make ends meet. It was during a performance of Ice Loves The '80s in Hub City that Tora met Bea. Somehow Bea ended up in the locker room instead of the bathroom and the rest was history.

“I'm home, my little icicle,” Bea said. She waved a hand in front of Tora's face to snap the designer out of her reverie. Tora pushed her hand away without comment. She paused in her work to check the pattern jotted down in her sketch pad. Bea sat down on the couch, pushing aside scraps of fabric.

“So how about I ran into Page today? All that plastic surgery isn't doing her a favor. There have been a few rumors she's dealing with all that shady black market anti-aging products. She's always been extremely self conscious. Even by model standards. Feels like every time I bump into her, her whole body has shapeshifted. Like those weird lizards,” Bea said.

“Chameleons,” Tora replied.

“Yes! Those things. We should get one. They're cute and go with every outfit. Oh, we should go as Flynn and Rapunzel for the next con!”

Bea dabbled in cosplay. Most of success was due to Tora's ability to make amazing costumes from scratch and lots of hours spent watching makeup tutorials. Whenever the mood struck them, they got a booth in the Artist Alley at the local conventions. Tora was an excellent artist. She'd accumulated a small fanbase that faithfully visited her the rare times they sold prints. Bea tend to cater more to the furry subculture as she primarily made ears and tails in neon colors.

“Not enough time. Doing lessons at the rink that weekend. Check the mail?”

“No, I like pretending we don't have bills. Besides FedEx said your package is still in transit. Didn't you said you didn't need that need the thread til next month?” Beatrice asked.

“Client bumped up the date. Daughter got selected for an invitational at the last possible second. Mom wants the outfit done by next week. Paid an extra $200.”

“We can buy that matching lingerie set! The periwinkle one and the light green one. With the little bows.” Bea grinned at the blush that formed on Tora's cheeks. Tora's stoic demeanor was generally unbreakable. Unless your name was Beatriz and you insisted on walking around the house half naked.

“That'd be nice. Thought you wanted to go that new restaurant downtown? You mentioned how Bruce Wayne went there once.” Tora finally turned off the sewing machine.

She stood up to stretch reminding Bea of a cat waking up from a long nap. They should definitely get a cat. As Tora went through her stretch routine Bea admired her partner's figure. Bea might have been a bit obsessed with Tora's leg. When you watch someone lift one of their leg's over their shoulder and spin around on a giant pool of frozen water you tend to develop a complex. Tora never looked more beautiful then when she was showing aspiring skaters new moves.

“Oooh, you're right. He does have good taste. But that was doing that weird period when he was dating Oliver Queen. Talk about bad taste in relationships. Sometimes it feels like I'm the only model who hasn't been a Wayne Girl,” Bea sighed.

“You better be,” Tora said. She sat down next to Bea. Bea took the opportunity to pull Tora into her lap. She placed a kiss on top of Tora's platinum blonde pixie cut.

“I'll have you know that I only date cute Norwegian seamstresses.”

“Guess you hit the jackpot.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aannnnddd i'm unemployed again.
> 
> No. 
> 
> I don't wanna talk about it.
> 
> So here's the deal, this is the second side story for Downverse. The third chapter is 50% complete but I hit total writer's block. So for now. This chapter can count as an ending. Until I get my life together. 
> 
> As for the next main story, I got nothing so...it's on mini hiatus til I figure out how to go on.

The day of the birthday party rolled around faster than Bea expected. Mr. Baker had sent her a text reminding her to get there before noon and to slip in through the back entrance. The children would be assembled in the living room waiting for their surprise guest. Bea would burst in with her trademark glamour and then the party could really get started. It might not have been Fashion Week in Paris but Bea was going to give it her all. Every audience deserves to be entranced, entertained, and respected even if they hadn't hit puberty yet.

Considering that the sun was determined to melt everything in sight, Bea was thankful Tora talked her out of the green body paint. Her car's air conditioner wasn't in the mood to cooperate and finding a place to park was nearly impossible. Cars were lined up on both sides of the street in front of the Baker's house. She finally decided to take her chances by parking next to a mailbox three houses down. Gate communities really needed to learn not to squeeze their houses so close together. If the Home Owner's Association decided to have her car towed she was totally billing Mr. Baker extra.

With a decent twenty minutes to spare Bea hurried to the residence as fast as she could in pumps. The back gate was thankfully left unlocked. She tried not to be disappointed by the lack of a white picket fence. The backyard was filled with all sorts of fun activities for children. There was a full obstacle course, tire swings, and a bouncy house. The pool even had a few inflatable fish floating in it. She always appreciated parents who went the extra mile for their children.

“Ms. Da Costa is that you?” a voice called as Bea stepped into the sun room.

“Your princess has arrived, Mrs. Baker,” Bea responded. Mrs. Baker didn't have the typical markings of a housewife. Her tanned skin spoke of time spent outside instead of a tanning bed. The messy ponytail and stained apron spoke of a woman who'd spent several hours wrangling children.

“Thank God. Please, call me Ellen. If one more person calls me 'Miss Baker' I will scream. Buddy is doing his snake routine for the kids so we've got maybe ten minutes before you're on. Can I get you anything? Cupcakes? Wine? I need a glass and you'll need one if you're going out there.”

Bea followed Ellen into the kitchen. A birthday cake sat untouched on the counter next to a stack of lime green paper plates. Goodie bags were situated on top of the fridge (presumably to keep them out of reach of wandering hands). Ellen pulled out a half finished bottle of Merlot and two wine glasses.

“Buddy got a promotion last week,” Ellen explained.

“To Maxine, may she have many more birthdays to come,” Bea said raising her glass in a toast.

“Amen to that, sister. You look great by the way. Exactly what we imagined. Maxine is going to love you.”

* * *

 

Bea hid behind the curtain on the tiny stage they'd assembled. The kids and parents were sitting in rows on the carpet on the living room. Considering the Baker's living room was half the size of her apartment she doubted they were uncomfortable. Goodie bags had been distributed so a good chunk of the crowd was chasing a sugar high.

She adjusted her green wig to make sure it was secure. Last time she wore Ole Greenie it got caught on a low hanging chandelier. Her costume was a green sparkly corset with a skirt that appeared to be made entirely out of leaves. Her tights were decorated with a vine pattern. Her green ankle strap flats had each been adorned with a large flower on the tip. Since Maxine had requested a “fairy princess warrior” she wore green plastic wings with a matching tiara. A plastic sword was attached to the back of the corset.

Alright, she looked like Tinker Bell went for a night on the town. She primarily made her own costumes from scratch so she never got sued for copyright. Disney didn't take kindly to just anyone portraying their princesses for profit. Bea's made to order approach helped set her apart from the competition. And she always reused most of her work clothes for cosplay and costume competitions anyway.

“Alright girls, are you ready for your special guest?” Buddy called. The excited screams brought a smile to Bea's. They sounded so adorable. She hoped Maxine would like her.

“Allow me to introduce, Amazonia! Queen of Themyscira!” On cue, Bea burst through the curtain. The girls erupted into excited shrieks and applause. Bea waved and blew kisses to her crowd. She spotted Maxine sitting up front wearing a sash that proclaimed her to be the birthday girl.

“Hello, little ladies! I heard today was extra special. Has anyone seen Maxine? My fairy friends told me it's her birthday today!” Bea spoke in a sugar one. Her character Amazonia was meant to be as gentle as the breeze and as beautiful as a field of roses. All the love and grace of Mother Nature concentrated in the queen of fae.

Maxine nearly knocked over two of her guests as she ran up to Bea. Bea bent down to speak to her. Kids responded best when you literally got on their level.

“Are you Miss Maxine?” Bea asked.

“Yessum! 'M nine whole years old. That's almost ten! Are you a real queen?” Maxine babbled. Bea noticed the freckles that dotted her face and the blonde curls Maxine inherited from her father.

“Didn't you know? Every girl is a princess and when she grows up, she becomes a queen. It looks like you're well on your way to having your very own kingdom.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finish. It ends decently i think. Still no ideas for the main series. Trying to work in other fandoms so I'm not completely stalled with creativity. Lisa Snart is based on Mark Wahlberg.
> 
> Seriously
> 
> I like every character to sound different so I decided to steal his speech pattern. Also ten points if you can spot the Rogues reference

“What part of don't bring hockey equipment do people not understand?” Lisa huffed.

She had confiscated yet another set of hockey sticks from a group of rowdy teenagers. From the concession booth Lisa had the perfect view of the entire rink meaning she was usually the first to spot misbehavior. She placed the sticks out of sight in a corner of the booth. The boys would get them back when they left. This particular group was fond of staying til closing and Lisa wasn't responsible if she left before they did. Oh to be young and stupid.

Lisa gave up a scholarship at Gotham University to help her older brother with the failing family business. Golden Glider was one of last ice rinks in Central City. The economy never really picked up in the Midwest following the recession. Unemployment was high, crime was rampant, and high school dropout rates were climbing. Honestly, it was so similar to Gotham it was almost as if Lisa never left.

Almost.

The plan was simple. Get out, get a degree, and never look back. Major in chemistry and land a nice job at S.T.A.R. Labs. Then Mama Snart passed away from cancer and Leo was dragging her back into nothingness. To be fair, she would've dropped out anyway. The rink had been fronting her tuition. Once all the medical bills and funeral fees were handled, Golden Glider was about the only thing they had left of the family name.

Typical.

“Brooding?” Tora asked, snapping Lisa out of her melancholy. The instructor was standing in the cramped booth helping herself to a bag of chips.

“Hey, you gotta pay for that! Don't come sneaking in here like ya own the place,” Lisa snapped.

She didn't hate Tora. At least not too much. The friggin' woman had more talent on the ice then anyone Lisa ever saw and her she was slumming it with the benchwarmers. Tora's fame did attract a good share of stage moms who hoped some of that natural talent rubbed off on their crumbsnatchers.

“Take it out of my check. You own the place,” Tora said. She opened the bag of chips and stared out onto the ice. Okay, Lisa was a bit freaked out by her too. Tora was always quiet, the type of person who only spoken when it was necessary. That's what made it hard for Lisa to truly hate her, Tora never really did anything to anybody. In truth, she was the star attraction who kept the higher paying customers coming back. Lisa wondered why she even bothered coming to work when all Leo talked about was Tora this and Tora that and oh guess what Tora's teaching in her upteenth class this week.

“You fall on the ice? Leo's the big boss. The sign on his door says manager. The sign on our door says employees must wash hands before leaving the restroom. Stop drinking that! Soda ain't cheap,” Lisa sighed. Of course, Tora was taking her lunch break by grabbing freebies. Again. Did that model chick not feed her at home or what?

“You're in charge of day to day operations. Leonard plays poker in the backroom.”

Poker nights were the Golden Glider's unofficial second source of income. Leo was always suckering his loser friends into a few rounds of cards. She'd feel bad about her brother robbing them blind if she didn't know that they were thieves themselves. Mark and Evan were practitioners of the old fashion smash and grab. Axel was a punk who sold really good weed. If the cops every burst in talking about aiding and abetting, Lisa was throwing Leonard under the bus. Teach him to leave her on zamboni duty.

“Leo does his thing. We do ours. All I know is that this place opens at eight and closes at nine. Till then I'm alpha and omega at Golden Glider and my words is law.”

“Spoken like a true leader.”

Ok, maybe Tora wasn't a complete pain in the ass. Not that Lisa was going to tell her that. Didn't want the ice princess getting a big head.


End file.
